Come Back, Eve
by Gwendolena
Summary: Eve returns to the Fabricated World against her better judgement and seeks to escape once more. Garry has not aged a day, but he's changed over the past ten years. Takes place after the Forgotten Portrait ending. Future Eve x Garry. Rated T, but will progress to M.
1. Chapter 1

Wind whistles through a deserted art gallery. Playfully kicking about the dust on canvas and paint, it passes a painting of a lady in red, grazes the headless statues, and whips about a young girl of nineteen. She intrigues the zephyr, decidedly _different_ from the past visitors to the gallery since the case of the missing museum patrons those ten lonely years ago.

The gust dies off, and the stranger sighs. She'd never liked art galleries, but something had summoned her here this night. As she continued her trek down the corridor, she felt a sense of familiarity, pausing before various pieces like "Misshapen Diamond" and "Embodiment of Spirit." The latter work, a rather large and red rose, invoked a feeling of sorrow in the crimson-eyed stranger. She couldn't understand why.

_SPLAT!_

The girl whirled about, heart beating faster.

"W-who's there?"

The only answer she received was the whisper of the wind.

_Oh geez, I'm going to regret this..._

She stepped forward tentatively, reaching into her purse for her keys. If there was some sort of deranged bum hiding in the darker corners of the gallery, she wasn't going down without a fight.

"Hello?"

The few remaining beams of daylight revealed... a splattered orange.

_Well._

She pocketed the jangly keys. No point in starting a fisticuffs with an innocuous piece of fruit. She continued her stride down the somber hall, contemplating the events of her evening.

_"So... uh... do you like... art?"_

_"...No."_

She sighed again. Another unsuccessful blind date.

As she wandered further through the building, passing other mysterious artworks of a woman getting the newspaper and a sleeping, forgotten portrait, her mind roamed and she couldn't help but wonder: what was she doing here?

_Cough!_

Her skirt whipped about her pale legs as she spun around, eyes scanning the room for some other life form.

Nothing.

She must be hearing things, some sort of trick her mind was conjuring up out of unnecessary fear. Yes, that was it. Just her imagination.

She glanced out the window. The sun had set, and the moon was rising. While she regularly enjoyed stargazing, tonight would not be an interesting sight.

A starless sky.

For no reason at all, she felt a sense of foreboding.

She ought to head home.

Behind her, she could hear something knocking against wood. The taps were definitely not her imagination this time, she was sure of it.

Slowly, she turned. And gasped.

On the ground, words were written in a red liquid:

_COME BACK, EVE_


	2. Chapter 2

Trembling, Eve moved towards the message and bent down to touch the words. Seemingly, the blood-chilling memo was only made in paint. But who could have written this while she was looking out the window? And why was a feeling of déjà vu settling? She backed away.

"Okay, look. Whoever's out there, please, leave me alone. I'll go, okay? Just leave me al-"

Blue paint dripped from her palm.

"S-stop!" Her voice cracked, and she internally winced. An open display of fear meant an opportunity for them. She can't let them see - whoever they are - that she was afraid.

She'd seen enough horror movies to know where this was going. Fighting the curiosity to read the message, she sped down the black hall, desperately seeking the stairwell she'd climbed up. Red satin and light cocoa brown hair flew down the steps in a flurry, her pumps clacking noisily.

"Gah!"

The last step rose up and her foot caught, sending Eve to the cold, hard marble. She scrambled to get back up on her feet, cringing at the twinge of pain in her ankle, and turned, heading for the entrance. She hit the doors with a whump, but when she pushed the metal bar to escape, it jammed.

"Come on, open!"

Running out of ideas, she plucked her shoe off her foot and launched it at the glass. It seemed the gods were laughing at her today for the black pump simply bounced off, the door mockingly intact.

She heard a squelching sound and gazed upwards, watching in frozen horror as red paint trickled down the glass.

Thinking quickly, she grabbed her shoe and sprinted in the opposite direction. She skidded into the ivory room, immediately noticing the dripping blue paint on the floor near the exhibit labeled "Abyss of the Deep." Someone had clearly moved the velvet rope intended to keep visitors from touching the piece aside, but she wasn't stupid. Only a fool would approach the utterly obvious _trap_. She headed down the hall to the right and passed the enormous rose statue, refusing to look back to see if the footsteps she heard were artificial or not.

_COME DOWN, EVE_

"Like hell I will." She bit out.

At the sight of the headless statue marching towards her, she halted abruptly.

_Now I know this is a dream._

She felt cold hands grasp her shoulders and begin pushing her forward.

_Only my head could concoct something like this._

Knowing better than to struggle, she went limp, allowing the unyielding statues to guide her towards the fish display in the middle of the room. This was only a dream, after all.

On the floor, the blue letters spelled out,

_FALL_

She shut her eyes tightly and inhaled sharply, awaiting the shove from behind.

It never came.

Confused, she stole a peek over her shoulder. The decapitated sculptures were simply standing there. Waiting.

_Oh._

She peered into the deep, dark water, unable to find the solid ground. If this was the only way out of her dream, she had to admit it was rather vivid. Drowning to wake up?

If it was the only way...

She took a deep breath, eyes fluttering closed, and fell.


	3. Chapter 3

She was falling. Again. Why was she falling? Wait, wasn't she supposed to be in water? She could breathe just fine...

With a _whoosh_, Eve was suddenly in the body of a nine-year-old. She was wearing that small ruby-colored skirt and that crinkly and dreadfully uncomfortable white shirt her mom had made her wear to the museum. That was the word, right? Museum? It was one of the new words Garry had taught her. She liked Garry. Garry and his raggedy coat, Garry and his weird purple hair, Garry and his deafening shrieks whenever something popped out at them, and _especially_ Garry and the funny look on his face whenever she let a giggle slip at his amusing screams.

Garry was holding her hand at the moment, clinging to her as they ran through one of the colorful rooms in the strange art museum. They were running, running from that awful Lady in Red. She didn't like the Lady in Red.

Eve looked up at Garry, urging him to hurry up. He caught her eye and flashed a grin, and she grinned back enthusiastically. Yep, she liked Garry.

Without warning, the scene changed.

They were in the dark hallway. Ib was leading the way, clutching her rose to her chest as Mary stomped behind her. Mary was nice, but Ib couldn't help but feel a little disconcerted around the blonde. She had an aura of... well... _something_ about her. Ib wasn't sure what it was, but she knew it wasn't good.

Lost in thought, she almost missed the silence.

_Huh?_

Ib came to a standstill, looking over her shoulder. Mary had stopped running and was toying with the palette knife.

"Mary?"

The girl in question looked up, her unnaturally blue eyes wide.

"Ib, if only two of us could get out of here, who would you go with?"

Ib stood there, stupefied. That was a question Ib had not considered. Only two? Well, if she went with Garry, Mary would be here all alone, left at the mercy of the frightening pieces of art. She wouldn't do that to Mary. Mary looked to be the same age as herself, and stepping into Mary's shoes, Ib knew that Mary wouldn't be able to handle the constant fear and loneliness. But if Ib went with Mary, Garry would probably die... and that wasn't good at all.

But if only two could leave...

"I'd sacrifice myself, Mary. You could get out with Garry." She murmured softly.

"Wha! Really, Ib?" Mary gaped.

She nodded.

"But then you'd never meet your mom again! It would be really lonely... you know?"

The thought was petrifying, but Ib simply shrugged in response.

"Don't say things like that... we'll leave together! Promise!"

Ib smiled reassuringly, though she hoped things wouldn't come down to such a decision.

"I promise."

Mary may unsettle her, but she couldn't deny that the green and yellow girl _cared_.

Mary's face became distorted, and Eve jumped back in alarm. What was happening?

The hallway and Mary blinked out of existence.

Ib was sitting in Garry's lap, cradling his face in her hands.

"Hoho! You're really quite entertaining, you know that? I feel like I could talk to you about my every worry..."

_He doesn't even see me..._

To her left, Mary piped up.

"Is this really Garry? Something's wrong with him..."

No, this was Garry, for sure. But his eyes were glazed over, and the blues were duller...

"Maybe it's a fake? I mean, the real Garry wouldn't be here... right?" Mary mused.

Mary didn't like Garry, that was clear enough. There wasn't even a hint of regret in Mary's tone.

"Don't you think so, Ib?"

But Ib liked Garry. He'd protected her as best as he could so far, so she would save him in return.

_SLAP!_

Ib's small hand came in contact with Garry's cheek with a loud crack. His head moved with the motion, but swiveled back to face the girl in his lap. In the corner of her eye, Ib could see Mary's startled expression. But her focus was on Garry. His bright eye color was beginning to shine through, and his crazy mutterings had ceased.

_Once more should do it._

She slapped him again. The cloudiness in his eyes faded away, and Ib did a tiny victory dance in her head.

Garry stood hastily, hand pressed to his cheek to alleviate the pain.

"OWWW! What are you doing, Ib?!"

_Screeching like a banshee?_

"No way... h-he's back..." Mary breathed out.

_Yep, Garry's back._

Garry turned to Mary, then Ib, apparently shocked.

"Ib? And Mary, too... What's going on?"

He took in the room.

"And where is this? Why are we all here?"

_We're here to save your helpless butt._

But of course, she didn't say that out loud. Garry would probably look at her funny.

So instead, she threw her arms around his waist and hung on as if to ensure he wouldn't be separated from them again. She could feel the surprise in Garry's body and distantly hear the man exclaim something, but she wasn't going to let go anytime soon.

She felt a wiry arm surround her and a hand pet her head soothingly.

"My, well... I'm not too sure what happened, but you must have been worried. Sorry about that, Ib."

The warmth encompassing Eve's thin frame disappeared, and then they were in the toy box, chasing Mary. They needed to get Garry's rose back.

On the top stair, blue petals sat there threateningly.

_Oh, no._

Ib looked up at Garry, barely catching his face contort into an expression of intense pain. She opened her mouth to ask if he was okay, but he waved it off, nudging her forward. Ib acquiesced, scampering towards the stairs at the end of the path... until the footfalls behind her stopped. She looked back to see Garry bent over, eyes scrunched up and teeth gritted.

_No, no, no!_

Ib dashed back to her friend, internally panicking.

Garry schooled his expression into a mask, a neutral mask, but the dread was apparent in his eyes. Eyes that wouldn't meet hers.

"Ib... um..."

He was trying to keep it from her, because she was young, because she was a child. She hated being a kid because adults always tried to keep the truth from her because they thought she couldn't handle it. She wished she could be an adult.

"Sorry, but... Could you go ahead? I'm, uh... I'm sorry... I don't really know what to say..."

_It's okay, Garry... I understand._

"I don't want to lie to you..."

He smiled, a weak sort of smile that swiftly fell from his face.

"But I... don't want to tell the truth either... If you need help..."

He was running out of breath...

"I'll come running..."

_Oh, Garry._

"Go on... ahead..."

Ib stood there, refusing to budge. She wouldn't leave Garry to die, she _couldn't_.

Garry slumped to the ground, breaths coming slower as they do when one falls asleep.

_No._

She wouldn't let this happen.

The quicker she caught Mary and got Garry's rose back, the less pain Garry would have to endure and the less chance there was of Garry dying. She had to get his rose _immediately_.

She rushed after Mary, but not before a brief search through Garry's pockets. He might have a knife or something that she could take to defend herself with. Be that as it may, Ib found only a lighter, which she gripped tightly in her petite fingers.

Distantly, Ib could hear Mary's deceptively sweet voice laughing as she sang,

"Loves me... Loves me not..."

At the top of the steps, Ib watched helplessly as Mary plucked each and every petal off of Garry's rose and became giddy with excitement as she ended with "loves me."

Mary skipped away, abandoning the stem of the dead rose on the ground among a blanket of blue petals. When the coast was clear, Ib ran for the deserted flower, knowing in her heart that it was too late.

But that didn't stop her from hurrying back to Garry to hug him one last time.

After tearing herself away from Garry's sleeping form, she trudged up the steps for the second time. She avoided looking at the rotting petals and made her way towards the other flight of stairs on the other side of the room.

Wax roses caught her eye.

Mary's rose was yellow, right?

Along the wall crawled gigantic yellow roses, appearing to be drawn by crayon. When she approached the doorway, however, the entwining stems of the wax flowers pricked her finger. A thorn. Ib let it bleed, incapable of caring.

Wait.

She had a lighter.

She could set the thorny barricade up in flames.

So she did just that.

The path clear, Ib dragged herself up the stairway. Ib vowed, when she got out of here, to never even_ look_ at a flight of stairs again.

On the next floor, Ib was confronted with a painting. Something had escaped from it, judging by the shards of glass littering the floor around it. And from the yellow rose in the corner of said painting, Ib could figure out just what had escaped from its painted prison.

Ib began to walk towards the painting to inspect it further when she heard something clambering up the steps. She turned to greet it...

Mary.

"Ib! What are you doing?!" The painted girl yelped. Clearly, she hadn't been expecting someone to find her secret.

"Why... and how did you get into this room? You can't... can't be here! Please, leave now..." She stammered.

Ib shook her head stubbornly.

"Now!"

"No."

Mary's lips curled into a nasty snarl.

"Now! NOW! NOOOOOW!"

The girl reached into her sleeve and, with a murderous gleam in her eyes, pulled out the palette knife.

"LEEEEAAAAVVVVEEE!" Mary shrieked, rushing at Ib.

Numbly, Ib turned tail and ran, heading for Mary's portrait. The world seemed to slow as she flicked the lighter open, Mary cried out desperately for Ib to stop, and the flame licked the canvas. It burst into a roaring fire, shattering what was left of the glass encasement.

"Ah! NOOO!"

Ib jumped back to dodge the shards and turned to face Mary, who had dropped the knife with a clatter and backed away. Blue eyes met red.

"You said that you'd rather surrender yourself if only two could leave." She whispered, hurt heavy in her tone. "Well, only two can go... and now, Garry will stay, and we can go. I plucked his rose instead of yours because..." Her eyes flickered to her hand, watching it set on fire. She gulped and lifted her gaze back to Ib with a weak, ever-hopeful smile.

"Because we're friends, Ib. And you said you'd leave this place with me.

You promised."

The flames had spread up her arm, catching on her green dress and spreading onto her whole body. Despite it all, Ib couldn't help the lump rising in her throat. She opened her mouth to respond but found that the words would not come.

"I'm... I'm..."

With a last spurt, the flames consumed Mary.

"Sorry."

Ib felt a tear drip onto her cheek and raised a hand to wipe it away. She needed to go.

The world faded to black.


	4. Chapter 4

_It. Is. Cold._

Eve sat up, rubbing her arms to banish the goosebumps that rose on her flesh. Where had her blanket gone?

She cracked open her eyelids, looking with confusion at the cobalt blue walls. Her room wasn't blue...

And then she saw it.

A clear vase sat on a miniature table in the middle of the room, a scarlet rose nestled anticipatingly within it.

Her jaw hit the floor.

_Oh, shit._

She shut her eyes again and pinched herself. The sting felt sharp, unlike her normal dreams where pain was a bit fuzzy. Though she wished it were not so, she knew this was no dream.

She was back in the Fabricated World.

It was all coming back to her now. Each event from the moment she'd taken the red rose up to burning Mary and escaping, she could remember. Why hadn't she remembered in the real world?

And all her nightmares, all her phobias... she realized now that they weren't some bizarre affliction of the mind the therapists of her childhood had told her they were... they were from here. From Guertena's hell. If only she could bring her therapists here for a day. Then she could laugh in their faces and crow victoriously, "I told you so."

But to do that, she'd have to get out of here first.

Pushing off the stairs, she turned and glanced upwards. Just as she'd thought. The stairs ended at a wall, obstructing any attempts to leave. That would have been too easy, anyway.

Maybe she could call someone to tell them where she'd gone?

She patted her side, hunting for her purse.

_Gone. _

_Must've fallen somewhere when I dived through that Abyss._

What about her handkerchief?

Her hand delved into a small pocket with the sole purpose of holding her most prized possession: her lace handkerchief with her nickname, Ib, embroidered in the corner. She could still remember when she'd received it for her ninth birthday...

_"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday, dear IIIIb! Happy birthday to yooooou!"_

_Her parents clapped excitedly, a huge grin splitting her mom's face. She blew out the candles, no particular wish in mind, and smiled shyly. Though she was never one for parties, her parents had insisted, so to make them happy, she had conceded._

_"Here, Ib, I'll cut the cake for you. You can go open your presents." Her mother prodded._

_She bounced off of the chair and meandered over to the little pile of presents on the ground. Her father plopped down next to her, taking a peek at the mobile in his pocket. He was probably expecting a business call._

_She tore open the wrapping around the first gift: a stuffed bunny toy._

_Of course._

_Her parents always gave her plush bunnies. It was a sort of companionship in lieu of actual pets, due to the fact that her mother was severely allergic to animal dander. She'd sneeze and cough, and Ib didn't want her mother to have to suffer because of her selfish wants, so she was content with her toy bunnies._

_The rest of the gifts were nothing special: a couple of books, a sketchbook, and some new clothes._

_"Ib?" Her mother called out to her._

_Ib looked up, accepting the slice of cake being held out to her with a murmured, "Thank you." She pried off a piece of the red velvet dessert with a fork and guided it into her mouth, savoring the taste._

_"I have one last thing for you."_

_Her mother handed Ib a white cloth, its delicate surface fascinating Ib._

_"That's a handkerchief, Ib. Ladies of old used to carry it with them and give them to the men they fancied. I know it's a little early for you, but I just thought that it would be nice for you to have one."_

_In the corner, small, red stitching caught her eye. She had to squint to read it, but it consisted of only two letters: Ib._

She plucked the lace fabric from her pocket. It was still with her, surprisingly. She gazed at the embroidery and the coral red letters, remembering overhearing her parents discuss the interesting present after that party, when they'd thought she was asleep.

_"She won't be encouraged to fix her own problem if that handkerchief is constantly there to tell her that her name is Ib, not Eve!"_

_"Problem? It's just a speech impediment, honey. It only makes her say her v's as b's, not make her stupid. She knows her name is Eve. She'll grow out of it eventually, you'll see."_

_"And why did you give her a handkerchief in the first place? What was going through your head? She's too _young_ for a handkerchief!"_

_"I saw it in a shop, and I wanted to buy it for her! Can't I just spoil my daughter once in a while? I'm not always around to watch her grow up, thanks to my job. I'm trying to relish the time I have with her now! What about _you_?"_

What was that word again?

Ah, yes.

Bittersweet.

She made a quick recap of her belongings. No purse, no phone, no way of contacting the outside world. Just a pair of growingly-uncomfortable heels and a handkerchief. Ah, well. She'd made it out of here once, she could do it again. She sauntered away, moving towards her flower. As she picked it up, vaguely noting the absence of thorns, she counted the petals. There were ten this time... probably because she was older. To her left, she heard tapping, the same tapping noise she'd heard when she was in the gallery above. Her head pivoted to take a gander, and sure enough, there was a message on the ground:

_WELCOME BACK_

In the middle of the words, something sat there expectantly. Wary, Eve edged nearer, ready to turn a full 180 degrees if it were some mannequin head with plans to chase after her like the Weeping Angels. She crouched down and picked up... a doll? Deep blue skin clashed against a fuchsia dress, and two patches of red with black dots in the middle served as its eyes.

_"Red Eyes"_

_"For the love of... This painting, this room... Why must it be so unsettling?!"_

_"Huh? Really? I think it's cute..."_

The plush made Eve uncomfortable, and she was about to set the thing back down when a gleam of metal caught her eye. She pushed the doll's clasped hands apart, catching a blue key before it hit the ground.

_A key, hm? If there is a key, then there must be a lock._

On the opposite side of the room, past a painting, Eve discerned a blue door. Gently placing the doll back on the floor, Eve traipsed over, pushed the key into the keyhole, and turned it, unlocking it with a click.

Maybe the rest of the rooms will be as easy to escape from as this one.

She twisted the doorknob and passed through the frame, fingers crossed.

* * *

This room's walls and floor were green, forest green. The next wooden door was straight across from her, and the brunette rushed to it, turning the circular knob. It was to no avail, of course, for the exit was locked. Eve wasn't sure what she'd been expecting.

She leaned against the wall, taking in her surroundings. There was a vase with water in the corner, a large sketch on the wall, and a hallway leading off to an open doorway. She sauntered through this entrance and drew in a shaky breath, spotting an all-too-familiar figure...

The Lady in Red.

At least she was still trapped in her glass casing against the wall. That must be a good sign. But something was different...

_Oh._

Looking closer, Eve distinguished a green key, clutched in the monster's fingers. But Eve wasn't going to even consider breaking apart the only boundary between her and the creature for that key just yet.

Eve circled around her childhood nemesis, veering towards a line of vertical, ebony sliders, a curvy crack in the wall above them.

_Hm._

She hopped up, grabbing the first slider on the left and tugging it downwards until it was at the bottom. There was a satisfying click as the bar locked in place, and Eve continued, arranging the other five so that together, they made the same shape as the crack.

_Ping!_

Behind her, the key popped out onto the ground. Eve went to collect it quickly, shuddering as she caught a glimpse of a scowl on the Lady's face.

_Better get out of here quickly..._

She scurried away, heartbeat thumping loudly in her chest.

_CRASH!_

"Oh, no..."

Eve turned slightly, spying the shattered glass and the wooden frame with hands and arms and a head-

She blasted through the doorway and skidded around the corner, covering a full three yards until an invisible force tripped her. She hit the ground, the instance too familiar, and was climbing back onto her feet when a frigid hand wrapped around her ankle, yanking her back onto the hard floor. Eve let out a yelp, inhaling and exhaling quickly as she tried to squirm out of the maliciously grinning Lady's grasp. The resistance only made the painted woman tighten her grip, and Eve winced, kicking at her captor...

"AHHHH!" The Lady howled as Eve's heel went right through her eye. Hot blood gushed everywhere, only it wasn't blood but red paint, spurting onto Eve's skirt and her leg. The Lady let go, scrabbling at her wounded eye to make the agony abate.

Internally stunned, Eve stood swiftly and shoved the key into the lock, looking back one last time at the shrieking Lady in Red before she pushed the door open and ran into the red room.

* * *

Red. So much red. Red like paint, like blood.

She really hadn't meant to kick the Lady in the eye, truly. It was an accident! She'd only wanted to get her to let go so she could run away. She never meant to hurt her...

Eve sighed and moved forward. Up ahead was a wide river of cool, clear water, a metal gate on the left end of the brook and another on the far right. She couldn't recall any streams from the last time she'd been here, so she figured it must be a new addition since all of the rooms were different.

A mannequin head was perched on a ledge to the right, its beady eyes piercing through her soul.

Did it know?

She turned away. To her left, a vase rested next to a red cord hung from the ceiling, simply asking to be pulled. But what did it do? What if she released another Lady in Red and hurt her too? Her conscience couldn't handle that.

Alternatively, she could just sit and relax. She could probably use the rest after that rush of adrenaline. Plus, she could rinse the blood off.

Deciding it was the better option for now, Eve sat at the edge of the river, slipping her shoes off of her sore feet. If she could travel back in time, she'd find some way of telling her earlier self to wear sneakers, or some sort of running shoes. Or maybe just not go to that date at all and write her book instead. And definitely tell her to keep away from the abandoned art gallery.

Who was she kidding? Her earlier self would have gone anyway out of curiosity. This would have happened either way.

After dipping her heels in the crystal water, Eve set to wringing out the paint from her skirt, leisurely sticking her toes in the stream. She could feel the strong current just from that, so swimming across was out of the question.

_Thump. Thump._

_What...?_

Perking her ears, Eve could _just_ make out the steady thumping sound of wood bumping against something, sort of like boats tethered to the docks. It seemed to be originating from behind the metal gate.

She rose, twisting the last drops of paint and water from the hem of her skirt, and went to inspect the source of the noise. Maybe there was some type of rowboat she could commandeer and navigate away from this place...

Mahogany frames were floating on the waves, a well-known design identifying them as various Ladies of Red, Green, Blue, and Yellow. They lay face down and did not stir, presumably drowned.

_How did that happen?_

A sudden thought flitted through her head.

If the Ladies had been killed in such a way, they had to have been pushed in. And to be pushed in, there must have been another person to do it.

_Someone else is in the gallery._


	5. Chapter 5

Filled with newfound hope, Eve attacked the puzzle with vigor.

_If I pull that cord there, the gate will likely be lifted, and the Ladies will float down this way. Due to the current, they'll move pretty fast, but if I time it right, I can hop from one to the other and land on the other side._

_Only one way to find out._

She sidled over to the cord, leaving behind her heels (she'd never liked those toe-pinching torture devices, anyway), and tugged hard on it, watching as the gate grinded its gears and rose. Stepping away from the shore to execute a running jump, she paused, noticing the wall that was there just a second ago had mysteriously _disappeared._ She poked her head into the secret passageway-

Eve pulled back, bracing herself for a quick leap before the _very much alive_ Lady in Green rushing down the newly revealed hall reached her. A pale hand shot out and she sailed through the air-

Eve landed on a frame, wobbling slightly as the frame commenced sinking under her weight, the foam tickling her toes. The current swept her downstream, and she sprang for the nearest Lady. A few hops later, she hit the opposite shore, throwing a final glance towards the snarling Lady in Green on the other side.

Before her was a trio of the headless statues (which remained immobile, thank goodness), a couple of smaller rooms, and two doors, one on the left, and one on the right. She was a couple paces forward, planning to check out the sub-room on the left, when out of the corner of her eye, she caught two of the sculptures twitch. The blue and red ones were waking up, sensing her presence.

Eve dashed to the door-less room, searching for something to defend herself with. She found nothing but three paintings with buttons hanging off the wall.

_Red. Blue. Yellow._

She whacked the red and blue buttons with her fist and turned, confronted with her two pursuers, who stood still once more.

The brunette sighed in relief, gingerly stepping around the two statues. She should go see what's in the other roo-

Yellow and black flooded her vision, and before she could back away, a pressure began closing around her throat. Her nails scrabbled at the frigid hand, attempting desperately to pry the unrelenting choke off and allow in some air, but the hand was joined by a second, its clamp tightening. Red rose petals fluttered to the ground and Eve made one last push as her sight began to darken-

Something hit her in the spine, jolting her back to consciousness. The pressure had let off and she gasped, gulping down air gratefully. What had she...?

_Ah._

Behind her was the yellow painting. Looked like she'd backed up against it and pushed the button, freezing the yellow statue in place.

_That was close... but how am I going to get out of this spot?_

The sculpture had stilled with its hands around her throat, pinning her against the wall. _Out of the frying pan and into the fire, alright..._ Shoving at its arms made no difference, and after several exasperated wriggles and kicks, Eve resorted to her last option: breaking its fingers off. She'd read enough to know how to do it (a rather gruesome novel that had slipped into her possession by accident had _enlightened_ her), so arranging a loose finger over her thumb, she tipped the digit hurriedly, grimacing at the dreadful snapping noise it made. She broke off the rest of the fingers on the same hand and slipped out of its now-limp grasp.

Eve felt drained. Her rose lay on the ground, only four petals attached to the center. Dragging herself out of the button room, she recollected her flower, eyes scouting for a vase with water to put her rose in. She glanced across the room-

The vase was bobbing up and down the river, thrown from its pedestal by an infuriated Lady in Green. Eve ran to it, falling to her knees to try to snatch the glass before it disappeared through the wall. She failed, her fingers closing around thin air.

On a whim, Eve plunged the stem of her rose into the rushing water, but hissed and pulled her arm back as a biting pain shot through her chest. She stared in dismay as another petal detached itself and drifted down the stream.

_Alright, don't put rose in anything other than a vase. Got it._

With heavy feet, Eve treaded over to the other small room and pushed the door. It didn't budge. She shook it, wondering if pulling on it would work, but the door refused to give way. Actually, she could probably pry open this door, but she'd need something to do that with.

She dropped back into the button room, speculating what would be thin enough to fit in the crack between the door frame and the door...

_Ping!_

The index finger on the yellow and black statue's left hand (one she'd been forced to break off) clattered to the ground, what appeared to be grooves running along the pad of the digit.

_Huh._

After acquiring the black key, Eve trudged back to the locked room, driving the finger key through the keyhole and pushing the door open.

In the middle of the room, a white mannequin head sat ominously. Its glassy eyes bored lifelessly at the door ahead, unnerving Eve the moment she stepped in. Indeed, it seemed as though everything in this nightmarish realm was meant to unsettle a person.

Jet black paint dribbled down the red wall, forming a message.

_THERE WAS AN OLD LADY WHO SWALLOWED A FLY_

_Swallowed a fly, eh?_

The crimson-eyed woman shuffled over and delicately picked up the head, reluctant to do what she knew had to be done. She breathed in deeply, steeling herself.

"I'm sorry."

With her fingers, Eve gently pushed the head's lips apart, trying not to acknowledge the needle-like teeth in the critter's mouth. There was a bit of metal lodged in the thing's throat, and Eve gulped in the realization that she had to _reach in there_ to grab the key.

"I am_ really_ sorry."

Repeating her inner mantra of _please don't bite my hand off, please don't bite my hand off, please don't bite my hand off,_ she painstakingly inserted her hand in its mouth, stretching her fingers as far as they could go. Inside was warm and wet and horrifically _prickly_, as though squishy, miniscule tentacles were brushing against her skin.

_Ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew, ew-_

A solid object came in contact with her fingers, and Eve seized it, retreating quickly and pulling her arm back at lightning speed. She shut the creature's trap and set it back on the ground, darting out of the room and for the first door she saw. The key slid in and she turned the knob, racing forward-

Eve's feet stalled, her toes plunging over the edge. In front of her were knife-edged spikes, made out of some sort of vine. Her hand gripped the doorknob tightly, and she yanked herself back, withdrawing from the death trap. She should go check the other door.

She strode over to the second door, making sure to go _slowly_ this time, and pushed the same key in. It went without a struggle, and Eve leaned forward, walking onto solid ground.

* * *

This room was cloaked in plain gray, except for the two apple trees in the center of the room. It was refreshing to see something relatively normal in this place. There was only one way out: a door placed on the opposite wall.

On the floor, silver paint disclosed another hint:

_ONE WILL HAVE THE KEY_

Eve stepped over the words and padded towards the fruit-filled boughs, crying a silent cheer as a filled vase came into view. She dropped her wilting rose into the glass and stood a little straighter as the flower bloomed back to health, sucking up the rest of the water. Leaving the flower in its place for the moment, she sauntered over to the tree on the right, finding nothing out of the ordinary, then to the tree on the left. Absolutely nothing caught her eye, apart from the fact that the apples on both trunks were glossy and robust, almost _too_ perfect.

_One will have the key. So one apple contains the key._

Close scrutiny of the fruit revealed nothing, frustrating Eve. This was no puzzle, this was a game of chance. Either she picked the right apple or she didn't, and she had the feeling that choosing the wrong apple would result in pain. Her hands balled into fists as she paced back and forth between the two trees.

_This is not fair in the slightest._

_But remaining here, indecisive, will do me no good._

_Though I'd much rather not, I have to pick._

_I have to do it._

She faced the tree on the left, plucking a soft sphere from the green leaves. In her palm, she turned it over, checking for any signs of a key or further hints to an answer. It told her nothing, so she sighed in resignation and bit into the flesh.

Immediately, Eve could tell something was wrong. There was a distinct lack of crunch, and the juice tasted altered. The globule rotted in her hand, and Eve, disoriented, dropped it with a _thunk._

_No, please, no..._

Her eyes went straight to her rose, seeing the petals begin to brown around the edges. Fear flooded her brain, and she stumbled towards the vase, hand outstretched to snag her rose and bolt for the door in a last, desperate attempt at escape, but vertigo descended, and the room spun, flinging Eve onto the ground. Her eyelids drooped against her will, but she pushed herself onto her elbows and crawled forward, always forward. As her mind became foggy, she frenziedly reached for her red rose, knocking over the empty vase in the process-

The world went black again.


	6. Chapter 6

_Eve was running, running down a dark hallway from something, or _someone._ She fled down the stairs in a flurry, passing by countless doors, each calling out and beckoning to her._

_"Eve?"_

_"Where are you going?"_

_"Why are you leaving so quickly?"_

_"You just got here!"_

_"Please don't leave us again!"_

_"Eve!"_

_She ignored them all, sights set on the door at the very end of the hallway. Expecting a black flight of stairs downwards, Eve was bewildered to, instead, be greeted with a large painting and couple of bookcases in a violet room. She would have turned and tried another door had a gentle voice not drawn her in._

_"...I'm sorry I didn't notice earlier..."_

_Like a moth drawn to a flame, she could only move towards the origin of the voice. She moved around the bookcases and was met with the sight of a girl draped in a ragged, midnight blue coat, and a young man with his back to Eve, comforting the small child. Eve soundlessly padded forward, endeavoring to see the two better as the man motioned towards the pocket of the jacket, the girl thrusting her palm inside of it to resurface with a yellow candy wrapper. Her head lifted questioningly, and with startling clarity, Eve realized it was herself from ten years ago._

_"You can have that. Feel free to eat it. Let's rest here a while longer before we set out again." The man said softly._

_He stood, turning and heading for the bookcases. As he glided past Eve, she jumped, startled to see foggy eyes sunken into his skull. The irises were not the brilliant blue that she remembered, but seemed cloudy in the way eyes look after a person has _died.

_And for a moment, Eve could have sworn that a vicious grin been etched across his face._

_She shook the notion off. The man stalked right past her, unaware of her presence._

_She needed to go... She needed to get out of this horrid gallery..._

_Her feet remained planted on the ground, her gaze following her younger self as she picked up her companion's coat and handed it to him, striking up a conversation. Even though it had been ten years, Eve could still recall how easy it had been to speak to him. She wasn't really _shy,_ it was just that she was so always so disgruntled when people assumed that, because of her speech impediment, she was younger than she looked... and then they would speak to her in that condescending tone that she'd hated. So. Much._

_"Why do you talk like a lady?" The young Ib queried. Eve stifled a laugh at her frankness._

_"Like a lady? Perhaps so, but... Hm..." He struggled to find an answer. "I can't quite remember. I just took to it, I suppose."_

_The man with a head of lavender hair looked down at Ib, smiling amiably._

_"After all, it's preferable to be gentle rather than rough, hm?"_

_Ib scurried away from her friend, heading for the grand painting on the wall. Eve's attention remained fixated on the girl, watching with mild amusement as she speculated if the nameplate read "Untitled" because the painting was actually named that, or if Guertena was too lazy to give it a title-_

_A piercing pain went through Eve, and she gasped, looking down at her chest in shock and torment._

_With a shaking hand, Eve reached for her back, feeling around for whatever had stabbed her. Chilled flesh grasped her fingers firmly, and her mouth ran dry, her knees beginning to quiver. Ib seemed not to notice Eve's strangled whimpers, marching away until she was out of sight. As her breathing became shallower, she could sense a presence move until it was flush against her back, still holding onto her hand. It breathed evenly against her ear, blowing locks of hair into her face._

_"Caught you."_

_It drove the point home, the dagger impaling her heart with a grisly squishing sound. Hot blood began to seep through her black Evita top, and the manifestation behind her released her hand, letting her drop to the ground in a heap. She could feel her heart still stuttering, but her consciousness was slowly ebbing, and the redness began pooling around her..._

So much red.

* * *

Eve sat up with a start, a sheen of sweat coating her body unpleasantly.

_...Huh?_

Her head spun, senses absorbing her surroundings. She could tell that she was reclining on a white sofa, surrounded by loads of bookcases... Was she in the library?

_No, I can't be... The library I work at is painted white and brown, and these walls are purple._

_Furthermore, there's a piano over there._

_...Oh, wait._

_The gallery._

The last thing Eve could remember was biting into that rotten apple in the gray room... So how did she end up here?

"...Good morning."

"AH!" Eve squeaked at the unanticipated greeting, hastily jumping to her feet and turning to meet whatever was in the room with her.

The man held his hands up, gesturing for her to stand down. Eve's eyes traveled upwards, taking in light brown trousers, a green shirt, a tattered coat, sapphire blue eyes, purple hair...

_Oh, my god._

* * *

**A/N: I don't do author's notes, but I felt that I should make one here. You are ****_very_**** welcome for this chapter. But don't worry, I'm working on the next one, and it should be posted here today. If not, I apologize. I'm going shopping today for new clothes, so I might be busy. **

**To OmegaStarShooter14: :)**

**To ConfuzzledStranger: You do live up to your name, don't you?**


	7. Chapter 7

"Hey, it's okay. It's fine, I'm human, just like you." He blurted out.

_It can't be..._

"I'm sorry for startling you. I probably shouldn't have done that..." His eyes shimmered in the light, looking off to the side momentarily before meeting Eve's once more, concerned.

"Are you feeling alright?"

_I watched you die, Garry._

"Yes... I feel fine now..." She returned guardedly.

He leaned forward, extending a hand and smiling reassuringly.

"I'm Garry. What's your name?"

_And you haven't even aged a day._

Eve gawked at his hand before taking it and shaking it weakly.

"I-I'm Eve."

"Eve."

His eyes unfocused, seemingly seeing something in the distance. Eve, puzzled, peeped over her shoulder. Nothing was there, except for the piano. She looked back to see him shake his head to clear it and return his gaze to her.

"It's nice to meet you, Eve." His smile widened, and his head tilted slightly.

She dropped his hand, clearing her throat awkwardly.

"Um... How did I get here?"

"Well, I, uh, carried you here." He explained, a tad unsteadily. "I was on my way to get water from the stream, and I found you, unconscious, in the apple room. So I carried you here, to my safe room."

"Safe room?"

"Yes, this room is completely sealed from the creatures out there. See, no paintings."

She rotated, glancing at the empty walls. He was right: there were no paintings.

"Huh." Eve murmured, absentmindedly tugging on the hem of her skirt. "Thanks, I suppose."

"It was the least I could do. Besides, I couldn't leave a beaut- I mean... erm..." He coughed into his fist, looking away. Eve could feel her face flush in response, and she looked down at her bare feet, a bashful smile creeping across her face.

_No... Wait._

_This is wrong._

The smile fled from her face.

_You shouldn't be alive._

_I can't let myself forget about that._

Garry stepped away, a small part of Eve letting out a breath in relief.

_I can't let down my guard._

"If you don't mind me asking, what were you doing before you got here?" He inquired, leaning against a bookcase.

"...Escaping?" She replied hesitantly.

_What else would I be doing..._

He blinked. "Oh, of course you were... I mean... You're not the first one I've met here... Why am I asking you that..." Garry grumbled to himself, suddenly finding his scuffed shoes very interesting. "Well, anyway... Would you mind much if I came along with you? I want to get out of here as much as you do."

He looked up at her, hope glimmering in his eyes.

_You're not Garry... I watched the real Garry die ages ago... But you don't seem particularly dangerous to me. And I'll probably need assistance when I solve the next puzzles._

_Fine._

"Sure. Why not?"

His face split into a wide grin.

"Alright, then. Let's head off."

He shoved off of the bookcase and ambled towards the door, stuffing a hand into a coat pocket to pull out a violet key. Eve followed, establishing a safe distance from him, _just in case._

As he unlocked the door, Garry looked over his shoulder to meet Eve's eyes.

"So how did you arrive here, Eve? Did you get pushed into the Abyss exhibit?"

Suspicious, Eve decided it would most likely be best to not share _everything_ with this Garry replica.

"Yes. Yes, I was. I felt drawn to the gallery for unexplained reasons, and I went inside to check it out... And then I ended up here, in a blue room."

He hummed in response. "Yes, that's how most end up here. Oh!" He twisted the doorknob and pushed, holding the door open for Eve to walk through. "That reminds me. Do you have a rose?"

She held up her red rose to answer his question. "I found it in a vase when I first got here."

He stared at her rose intently, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he were trying to remember something.

She wasn't going to tell him.

As she waited for him to lock the door behind them, a sudden thought struck her.

"Wait, you said _most?_ Have there been others?"

"Certainly." He pocketed the key. "In the time that I've been trapped here - which I'm actually not sure is how long - there have been..." He counted on his fingers, looking off to the right as they strolled down a hallway. "ten other visitors."

"...What happened to them?" She asked curiously, not exactly sure she wanted to know the answer.

The Garry-replica cleared his throat fumblingly, his gaze hitting the ground.

"...I don't think it's appropriate for conversation."

_Well._

"Here we are."

He conjured up a second key and unlocked the door in front of them, letting Eve enter the light brown room first.

"I've been in this room before, but I just can't solve this puzzle." The Garry-duplicate proclaimed, a touch morosely, guiding her towards... a tangram? "Would you mind taking a look at it?"

_It's been a while, but..._

"I'll give it a shot."

The silhouette given to the side of the puzzle took the shape of some sort of small, yellow bird.

"Obviously, these two big triangles will serve as the wings like this," He offered, reaching around her (_a little too closely_) to arrange the pieces, "but I just can't figure out where the rest go." He stepped back, giving Eve some room.

"Well," she breathed out, "I'm sure this square will go in the center, this small triangle will be the head, and if I turn the parallelogram this way..." She pressed the shape delicately and dragged it into position, "it will serve as the neck."

Behind her, Eve could barely catch Garry saying something under his breath.

"Did you say something?"

Startled, "Uh, no... Don't worry about me. Carry on."

_I can move this medium-sized triangle here, and put the last segment.. there._

The pieces clicked in place, forming one solid shape. Eve stepped back to admire her handiwork, but froze in stupefaction when one wing peeled off of the canvas, then the other...

_Chirp!_

A cheery whistle sliced through the silence of the room, followed by numerous other warbles. Eve recognized it as the song of a canary and was instantly enraptured by the innocent life she had composed. She beamed, but the smile didn't reach her eyes, which were filled with wistfulness.

The bird flopped off of the wall, landing on its feet. It tested its wings a couple of times, then took off, soaring into the air. It flitted around Garry's head, eliciting an "EEEEK! GET IT AWAY FROM ME!" from the lavender-headed man. Eve giggled, unable to stifle it, though her mind reminded her of how like Garry he acted...

The canary flapped towards Eve, landing on her shoulder playfully. She smiled at it, but then it took off again, flying towards the door, causing Eve to chase after it.

"Where's it off to?" She mumbled.

She could sense Garry in hot pursuit as she promptly tailed the canary, keeping an alert eye on the walls and the paintings that hung from them. A barely noticeable motion near the bird caught her attention, and she turned her head to see it-

_TRILL!_

A purple paw lashed out at the yellow ball of feathers, successfully hooking its fragile body in its claws.

"NO!" Eve shrilly cried out, horror filling her senses. She surged towards the illustrated feline, arms outstretched to rescue the limp bird, but it was too late. The cat eluded Eve, withdrawing within the safety of its painting to shove the red and yellow mess into its trap of fangs. A sickening sound of bones being crunched between teeth emanated from the picture, making Eve shrink back in disgust and grief. She'd created such rapturous, beautiful life, only to get it _killed._ She hid her face in her hands, wishing she could erase the guilt.

A hand fell on her shoulder, turning her body. She peeked through her fingers falteringly.

"You alright?" Garry asked softly, his eyes filled with concern and... sympathy?

"It's my fault... I freed it and left it to the mercy of the gallery. I should have known better, and now it's dead-" Her voice cracked, and a helpless whimper escaped her throat. "It didn't deserve to die."

Garry enfolded her in his arms tenderly, sighing. "I understand."

_He feels so warm, sturdy, and... so like Garry._

Eve pulled away, a polite smile painted on her face.

She really needed to keep her distance.

"Well, the cat painting dropped this." He held up a brown key, looking away. "Let's try it on this door."

* * *

**A/N: Holy crap. I promised to have the next chapter up six days ago. Six days! I am so so sorry. Feel free to slap me. I deserve it.**

**Seriously, though. This was a pain to write. I still don't feel satisfied with it. I hope to have the next part up by today (originally, this chapter and the next was going to be just one, but I felt that I should probably cut it), since I've already started on it. Don't count on it, though.**

**Oh, and I found this little thing by MrSoundlessVoice on YouTube here: watch?v=4sEfeTmj7dw **

**I just can't stop listening to it. I love the voice, the lyrics, everything. It's the very last line that breaks me every time. **

**And I'll admit: I listened to it while writing the last scene in the next chapter.**


	8. Chapter 8

_This hallway is too narrow._

_Too._

_Goddamn._

_Narrow._

Eve huffed silently as they made their way down the_ extremely_ constricting corridor, constantly telling herself that she would _not_ develop a spontaneous case of claustrophobia right now.

_When does this hall end, anyway?_

It felt as though an hour had passed, though it had most likely just been five minutes. An awkward silence fell as they treaded towards the far-off door.

"So, um..."

Eve looked over her shoulder to give Garry her attention.

"How old are you?"

_A weak attempt to lighten the mood, but an attempt nonetheless._

She'd give him credit for trying.

"I'm nineteen."

"Oh," His eyes widened, "you're pretty close to my age. It's funny... I thought you were younger..."

Eve chuckled. "Yes, most people think that I'm a teenager. Apparently, I look young for my age. Not to mention my height."

Noiselessness fell again, leaving a heavy pressure in the air.

"So what did you do here, Garry? After you fell into the Abyss exhibit?" She spoke up. The tension needed to be relieved, and quickly.

"Well, I didn't do anything besides try to escape, really. I stayed in the safe room. Read all of the books."

_Didn't do anything?_

_What about meeting me and Mary?_

_What about teaching me all of those words that I didn't know?_

_What about saving me when Mary came towards me with a knife?_

_What about trading your rose for mine when Mary took it?_

_What about all of that?_

"All of them?" She struggled internally, but refused to show it. "There were an awful lot of books in there, maybe more than in the library I work at. And that's saying something."

"Yes, I had nothing else to do. Besides, I figured the knowledge contained in there would likely help me throughout the gallery, but none of it has really helped so far. I taught myself how to play the piano in there, too."

Something caught Eve's skirt, ripping a wide shred of it off.

_WHAT._

_THE._

_FUCK._

Completely shocked, the confoundment quickly turning to indignation, Eve turned to slap his hand off and punch Garry in the face for the (unexpected) audacity, but was instead met with a hand that was black as coal.

Her eyes became as wide as saucers, and she panicked, swatting wildly at the limb without a body. Garry caught on, grabbing her wrist and towing her behind him towards the door, avoiding the walls.

"RUN!" He shouted.

More appendages emerged from the walls with a hiss, flailing recklessly to find something to grab. Eve twisted this way and that, evading the hands as they ran past them. They were almost out the door when a gleam of light flashed-

"Augh!"

Garry let go of his forceful grip on her wrist, clutching his other palm in distress. A hand brandished a palette knife, appearing to have slashed Garry. There was no time to stop and ask if he was okay, so she pushed on, almost running into Garry as they charged through the door.

* * *

Eve fell to the ground, clutching her side as she tried to catch her breath. Garry stood next to her, panting as well as he assessed the damage done to his hand. It bled profusely.

"Here." Eve stood and reached into her pocket, pulling out her handkerchief. She took a step towards him, unfolding the cloth.

"No, no, it's fine." He backed away, shaking his head. "It's just a minor scratch."

She raised a brow, unconvinced.

"Alright, fine." He relented, allowing Eve to wrap the handkerchief around his wound. "...Wait, isn't this real lace?"

Eve simply nodded in response, noting with gratitude that his gaze didn't drift to where part of her skirt had ripped off, exposing most of her leg.

"Well, I don't particularly want to tarnish this..."

Finished binding the laceration, she stepped back to let him appraise her work.

"Too late, unfortunately... Oh, well. Thank you, Eve."

She gave a small smile in return.

"Let's get going."

As she turned to check out the new room, however, Garry hesitated.

"Before we get a move on..." He glared at the door they had just come pounding through with a determined light in his eyes. "Just give me a second. I'll be right back."

She watched as he exited the room and closed the door behind him, wondering what was so important...

Surveying the untrodden territory, Eve studied the five copper cords in a row on the far right, a headless statue standing ominously in the middle of the room, and a strange-looking wall on the far left. She moved to investigate the peculiarity, but stopped when she heard the door open again behind her. Garry crossed the threshold and shut the door, holding up the palette knife that had cut him.

A very_ familiar_ palette knife...

"I wanted to get this. Just in case we come across something dangerous, you know?"

Eve nodded to show her understanding, then motioned towards the wall that seemed off.

"What do you think that is?"

He stuck the knife into his pocket, striding forward to inspect what she had pointed at.

"Hmm..."

Garry pushed against the wooden structure, checking to see if would move. Unbudging, he knocked on it instead, hearing a very solid noise.

"Seems to be a block of some sort. There are these gaps near the floor and the ceiling," He indicated towards them, "but they're too small to crawl through." He appeared thoughtful. "Let's investigate the rest of the room first."

The two made their way towards the line of cords and peered upwards, aiming to see where the links originated to have some sort of clue as to what they did, but with no such luck. It seemed the only option was to try the cords.

"Well," Garry uttered, "here goes nothing."

His slender fingers curled around the first cord on the left and pulled it downwards. A shifting noise of something grating rumbled from their left, and exchanging a glance, Eve and Garry ran to inspect the uncanny wall they had just been at. The thick wood had parted slightly, but was moving back into the wall at rapid speed. She shuddered to think of being caught between the wall and the log.

"Wait... Would you go back and pull that cord again?" He prompted, the ends of his lips quirking upwards in appreciation as she acceded and stood before the cords. As she pulled the first one, the same gnashing sound resounded.

"Ah. Pulling the cord pulls this log back into the wall, Eve. But it seems that there are more of these logs. Could you try the next line?"

She released the wire and reached for the one directly to the right, but Garry's voice caught her.

"Erm... It looks like you have to hold onto the cord to keep the log in the wall. Otherwise, it slams back into place. So one of us has to stay to pull the cord, and another has to run in there." He scratched his face. "I'm supposing the key for that door out will be on the opposite side."

"...Okay. I'll go. You pull the strings."

She started to make her way over to the passageway, but Garry held up a hand to cut her off.

"No. You could get crushed in there. I'll go."

Eve opened her mouth to protest, but he shook his head firmly.

"I'm dispensable. You're not. I'll go in there."

_I don't want to watch you die again..._

"You've probably got family. Someone who needs you to be alive, out in the real world. I... I have nothing to lose."

_I know you won't change your mind, no matter what I say. So, fine._

_I'll let you go._

He must have seen her submit because he turned and faced the wall, preparing to make a mad dash through the blocks. Eve lugged the wire down again, hearing the log retreat into the wall once more.

"Eve?"

She turned to meet Garry's wide eyes.

"You take care of yourself, alright? No matter what happens to me, be careful."

Eve nodded, her heart twisting against her will.

He turned and faced the wall, his muscles coiled to sprint. Eve pulled the first cord and he dashed through, never looking back. She pulled the second, watching anxiously as Garry made it through without a scratch, then disappeared from her sight as the first log slammed back into place.

"You alright?" She hollered across the room.

"Yep, I'm fine!"

"Okay, I'm pulling the third cord on one!"

"Got it!"

"Three... two... one!"

She yanked on the third cord and cringed as she heard the second log hit the wall and the third slide in.

"Okay!"

"Three... two... one!"

The fourth cord came down.

"I'm alright! Just one more!"

"Three... two... one!"

Distantly, she could hear Garry cheer in triumph. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and pricked up her ears for Garry's next call.

"I've got the key. I'm heading back... Alright, pull the fourth cord!"

"Okay, on one. Three... two... one!"

_SLAM!_

"Okay!"

"Three... two... one!"

_SLAM!_

"We're almost there! Pull the next one!"

"Three... two... one!"

"Just one more, and I'll be right there!"

"Three... two... one!"

She pulled the last cord. Without warning, a hand slapped onto her bare shoulder, spinning Eve around. She shrieked, caught unaware, and shoved at the now-mobile headless sculpture with both hands. It hit the ground, shattering, but another sound joined it-

"EVE!"

_GARRY!_

Eve turned back hurriedly and pulled the first cord back down...

_Nonononononononononononononononononononononononono _

She was too late.

Trembling, she pivoted and stared at the passageway, staring with anguish at the mangled and flattened body sinking to the ground. Red began pooling around the spot on the wall and the ground, soaking a brown key.

A sob escaped her throat.

_No..._

_You're not Garry..._

_You never were..._

_I shouldn't be upset over this..._

She collapsed, tears springing to her eyes. Her palms pressed against her eyes in an attempt to keep the tears back.

"Garry..." She murmured.

"I'm so sorry."


	9. Chapter 9

Eve ran down the hall, sniffling and trying to keep her mind occupied on the sound of the air rushing past her ears, or on the _thump, thump, thump_ of her feet steadily hitting the ground. Not on the image of a meaty, blood-soaked wreckage that had once been a very good friend that would forever be imprinted on her mind.

She passed a depiction of the starry universe, an enthralling illustration that she might have enjoyed immersing her imagination in if she wasn't so keen on getting out of this place of torment.

_I swear, I've passed that painting at least ten times by now._

Out of breath, Eve halted, sinking to the ground to rest her burning calves. She should have taken up track when she was in high school.

After a few minutes of collected inhales and exhales, Eve stood again, deciding to change tactics and inspect the tenacious painting. It was an immense sea of golds, blacks, whites, ambers, and auburns. The nebulas were just about bursting with color, so radiant that they almost seemed to shine amongst the deep black of outer space.

_Wait... Hold on a second..._

Peering closer, Eve could distinguish... the number eight? Lots of number eights... and threes, fives, twos... _what?_ She stepped closer to the picture, her nose less than a foot away from the canvas. It seemed the whole thing was composed of miniscule digits. Had she not paused to check it out, she would never have noticed.

_There's so many numbers... It's almost like they're infinite..._

_Just like this hall._

The sudden realization sent Eve back on her path down the corridor, testing her new theory. When she ran up to the same painting once again, it was clear to her that the hallway was on a perpetual loop, bound to repeat itself over and over again.

_God... What am I even doing?_

She hit the ground again, staring blankly at her blood-stained fingertips. Though she would've much preferred to leave... his body... alone, she'd been forced to near the remains and pry the key to the next door from lithe, stiff, and unrelenting fingers. Fingers on a hand that had not been attached to an arm...

She shook her head, sending the agonizing memory away to a dark corner of her mind. Remembering would only bring the tears back, and that would only hinder her, wasting the time she could be using to escape on bitter, unhelpful tears.

_I'm never getting out of this hall, by the looks of it. But what is the point? It's not like I have a family that will be worrying itself to death because of my absence... Hell, I don't even have a pet to feed. So why do I keep going? Why do I keep running?_

_Why?_

She rubbed her face dispiritedly.

_Oh, but I know why._

_Because Garry would have wanted me to._

Obstinacy restored, Eve rose from her position on the ground, determined to hunt down a way out. She felt her way along the walls for a switch or button of some sort and triumphantly unearthed a tan nub, jamming it in with her palm. A crumbling sound of rocks falling out of place came from behind her, revealing a pitch-dark, hidden passageway. Bracing herself for whatever repugnant horror lay hidden within the shadows, Eve stepped into the void, carefully feeling her way along the walls. Every sound was amplified, every breath she took, every stumble over a pebble, bouncing off of a stone wall right back to her. Drops of water joined the vexing symphony, though she couldn't tell where from. There was a deep curve in the wall, steering her left towards a faraway light. Her feet moved faster as she hurried into a new room and out of the blinding darkness, but her right foot became caught behind something and she toppled to the ground for what felt like the millionth time that day (or night, but she couldn't tell).

"If I trip over one more goddamned thing..." She swore under her breath.

Pushing her lengthy hair out of her face, Eve turned her head to see what had caused her to lose her footing to recognize a fiberglass mannequin head gazing at her in a unnerving manner.

Picking herself off the floor, Eve brushed off her skirt and took in the room. To her left, there was a small, doorless room, and to her right, the door out was placed between two half-shaded circles. The one on the left had the bottom half darkened, while the one on the right had the top half shaded. Some sort of oblong object hung from the doorknob.

_Interesting._

She took a step towards the room on the left, but tarried, a thought occurring to her. She turned to face the mannequin head, pointing a finger at it accusingly.

"Follow me, and I'll smash your head in."

The head simply stared in response.

It was an empty threat, she knew, but it was worth a try. Anything to lower the creepiness factor.

Putting it out of her thoughts, Eve walked over to the meager chamber and peered in. No sinister statues or mannequin heads in sight. She was about to let out a breath in relief when red and brown entered her vision-

_Wait._

Something was off about this Lady in Red. Instead of a dress, she wore a black Evita top tucked into a carmine, full circle skirt, a section of it torn off and baring smooth, alabaster skin. And instead of holding her hands serenely, she clutched a heavy-looking book to her chest, the small print just _barely_ visible. Eve knew what had to come next, and though she didn't want to look, she knew she had to. Her breath caught as her eyes took in the face.

It was a portrait of herself.

And yet, it was not herself. The woman in the picture sported an uncharacteristic, wicked grin, her eyes narrowed so that her expression gave off the feeling that she held some awful secret. Eve didn't want to spend another second in the room with this perturbing likeness of herself and turned to leave.

_Whump._

"God, no..."

On the floor sat a leather-bound book, the one the disquieting Eve portrait had been holding in her arms.

_Huh?_

Keeping an eye on the picture, Eve bent down and picked up the book. It felt quite warm, retaining the heat from the picture's embrace. The title on the cover read "Eve's Dirty Little Secrets."

_Oh, no. No, I don't think I want to read this..._

"Heehee!"

Eve's head snapped up, looking at the portrait. Her hand had moved to cover her mouth as she giggled, but her eyes still peered at Eve knowingly. Red letters dripped off of the canvas.

_COWARD_

"I am _not_ a coward." Eve hissed at it, annoyance flaring up like a flame inside of her. "Fine. I can handle this."

She flipped the book open to a random page, watching as words appeared on the page. Her own voice filled the air as the words were written.

"Oh, no... I got this water from the sink all over myself... And Mommy didn't pack me a change of clothes! It looks like I wet my pants... Oh, geez, my classmates are going to laugh at me..."

Eve gulped as the memory came back. She was five then, just starting kindergarten. She'd been washing her hands in the bathroom, but the faucet was too strong and splashed all over her clothes, especially her lower half. She could still feel the heat on her face from humiliation as that kid Eddie pointed her out, and the rest of the class joined in his laughter. No one would listen to her explanation, and her teacher had just shook her head and escorted her to the office. Not wanting to hear anymore, she skipped ahead to another page.

"He... He likes me?"

_Oh, gosh, not this memory._

Eve had had this crush in sixth grade. She sat behind the lanky boy in health class, and his friend David sat right next to him. David had turned to her and just blurted out, "Hey, Travis likes you." And while Eve had been internally screaming, for some stupid reason, her mouth moved of its own accord and replied, "Ewww!" Needless to say, Travis wouldn't speak to her for the rest of the year. She still berated herself for it today. She flipped the page, starting to wonder if this was a bad idea.

"Unf... Oh god, this feels so _good._ Oh, I wish you were inside of me..."

Eve's eyes widened, and she flipped the page again, not wanting to revisit _that_ moment.

"_This_ is sex? This is what all the fuss is about? He said it would be fun... That it would feel good. This doesn't feel like anything special. In fact, I could fall asleep right now..."

This one had only been last year... She'd done it with her former boyfriend and fallen asleep during the deed. She'd been tired... And he broke up with her the next day.

_God, I should just stop... But I can't..._

She turned the page.

"You sacrificed yourself for me. You sacrificed yourself to get the key so I wouldn't accidentally be caught between those blocks."

_No, wait... No, I don't want to hear this again..._

Eve looked fixedly at the words forming on the page before her, finding her hands unable to move.

"And what's even worse, this isn't even the first time. When you traded your rose for mine... I didn't ask you to... In fact, I'd wanted to tell you that you didn't need to, that I could've made it on my own, even if it was a lie. But you went and did it anyway. You gave me my rose back, and because of it, you died."

_Shut the book, goddammit!_

"Died.

Never to live and breathe again. Never to go home and tell your family you love them. Never to live on and make new friends. Never to find love, or experience its struggles."

A tear escaped her eye, making its hot way down her skin. She couldn't even move to wipe it away, her body seemingly frozen.

_I don't want to hear anymore..._

"And this stranger... Or who I thought was a stranger... I should have treated him better. I should have told him about us, and our previous experiences in this damned gallery. I should have reminded him and told him who I was, so he could remember Ib. I was suspicious, and that ridiculous suspicion was what kept me from ever finding out if that was actually you. And now... Now, I'll never know. I'll never know if he was actually you, Garry."

_Please, stop it..._

"I'll never forgive myself if that was actually you, Garry.

Oh, Garry.

I'm so sorry."

The book fell from her hands, shutting closed with a_ thump._ Eve rushed out of the room, hearing vicious cackles come from the evil portrait.

_That's enough of that. I'm not going to cry anymore. I've wasted enough time, and I need to get out of here._

She rubbed the wet streaks from her face and went to check out the door. It seemed the thing hanging from the doorknob was a flashlight. The switch clicked as she turned on the light, but Eve soon found out it was no ordinary flashlight. It emitted a sort of blue light, and she recognized it as an ultraviolet bulb.

_Forensic scientists use these lights to detect things that contain fluorescent molecules. But what am _I_ supposed to do with this?_

She aimed the beam at the circular panels on the wall and the door, finding nothing.

_Maybe the portrait has something I need. But I _really_ don't want to go back there..._

"...Suck it up, Eve. You're gonna go investigate, and you're not going to let that... thing... have the satisfaction of seeing you rattled." She told herself.

As she stepped forward to return to the damned room, however, specks on the floor glowed a greenish-yellow color. She stopped in her tracks, shining the light directly on the dots and watching in amazement as they formed a shape.

_What is that?_

Eve stepped over the spots and turned so that she was facing the door. The formation of dots made an unmistakable resemblance of Australia.

_Oh! Oh, I see. I'll press that panel on the left because Australia is beneath the equator and on the bottom half of the earth._

_Simple._

She hopped over the fluorescent smidgens and pushed her palm against the flat button on the left, watching it become level with the wall, then made her way to the door and twisted the knob. She pushed forward, but hit her cheek against the wood.

_Wait, what?_

Baffled, Eve stepped back, jiggling the knob in case it was stuck, but the door did not give way.

_What did I do wrong?_

She went back and pressed the button on the right, but the door did not unlock. Running out of ideas, she checked the picture on the ground again, but it was still Australia.

_What did I-_

The illumination of the black light lit up another country to the right of Australia. It looked to be... Japan.

_So there's more. Of course there would be more._

She shined her light to the left of Australia to see if there were others, but when nothing turned up, she continued moving to the right of Japan, revealing Italy, New Zealand, and India. When the patterns stopped coming, Eve returned to the door and pressed the buttons accordingly.

_Wait, is India in the upper hemisphere or the lower? Because it's kinda in the middle..._

She pondered for a moment, eyes flickering between the two panels.

_Ah, well, I'll press the upper button._

Her palm made contact and she pushed it into the wall, hearing a clink as a key fell somewhere. She turned to retrieve it, but did not see a brown key anywhere.

_It must be in that room with... her..._

Unwillingly, Eve shuffled over and prepared herself to be confronted with that disturbing creature again. But when she stepped in, the room was empty. Where there had once been a book and a menacing copy of herself, there was nothing but a brown key and an onyx background in a golden frame on the brown wall. It was as if the portrait had just gotten up and... walked away.

_Did I just... imagine her? Am I hallucinating?_

_Oh, god, I need to get out of here soon..._

She took the key and ran out of the door, dashing into the tangerine room.

And tripped.

_GODFUCKINGDAMMIT, I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF TRIPPING OVER-_

Beneath her legs, something squeaked.

"GET AWAY FROM ME!"

She turned her head and met the blue eyes of the person on the ground.

And screamed.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry it's been a while, everyone. Updates may come slowly until June-ish because finals are coming up and I have an AP exam tomorrow. 'Til next time.**

**Edit: I'm having trouble working out a chapter that doesn't sound monotonous, so I'll be taking a break until I feel I can confidently publish something of interest to you guys. May not update for a while, so I apologize :/**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Hey readers! You feelin' good today? I'm feelin' good today. Anyway, I had a colossal bout of writer's block and couldn't crank out this chapter without getting upset, but after a month and then some, I've finally decided that this is good enough to publish. So let's get in there.**

**PLEASE READ THE FOLLOWING BEFORE MOVING ONTO THE STORY**

**Warning: some severe gore involved in this chapter. (****_Corpse Party_****'s slipping into my work.)**

* * *

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, there is _no_ way you can be here!" Eve swiftly got to her feet and gulped, forcing tears back as the grisly scene flashed through her head. "I WATCHED YOU DIE!"

Her emotions were a swirling mayhem of bewilderment, incredulousness, and... something else she couldn't quite place.

"I'm sorry! Oh god, please don't hurt me!" Cowering, he threw his arms up in a defensive stance, his gray eyes wide with fear.

"Don't... hurt you?" She echoed, brow furrowing.

_Why would I-_

"Please, _please,_ just l-leave me alone! You're just like the rest of them... you're n-not real!" He heaved, a whimper escaping his throat.

_He's acting so strangely... Can this really be_ Garry?

Her own words came back to her, almost mockingly.

_I'll never know if he was actually you, Garry..._

And here he was again, sitting before her, appearing to be Garry in every way. Even if it wasn't Garry, she should at least give him a chance... right?

"Garry?" She took a step toward him.

"I'LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT, JUST _PLEASE_ DON'T HURT ME!" He keened, hastily withdrawing from her touch.

"Garry, it's okay. It's me, Eve... I'm here."

"Please..." He croaked, backing into the door.

"I'm real. I promise you that I am... And I promise that I'm not going to hurt you." She moved forward to hug him, watching with a pang in her heart as he shied away.

"N-No..." He gasped, eyes scrunching closed.

"Garry... Look at me."

As the attack he seemed to be anticipating did not come, he opened his eyes, tears brimming at the edges.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I never would... I promise."

"All the others said that. W-Why should I trust _you?_" A tear spilled over, another quickly taking its place.

"Because you gave your life for me."

A stillness fell as the two wills battled, until finally, the dam broke and the tears fell. Eve quickly fell to his side, wrapping her arms around him as he sobbed into her skirt.

"Hey, shh, it's okay. It's okay. I'm here for you." She stroked his hair reassuringly. It hurt her to see him like this...

Abruptly, Garry flung his arms around her waist, feebly hiccuping out a, "T-thank... y-you."

* * *

"I don't want to sound blunt, but... how are you still alive?"

After the tears subsided, they arranged themselves against the wall, not wanting to solve the room's enigmas just yet. He held her hand, hesitantly admitting to her that he was afraid that if he let go, he would find out that she was not real and just another one of _them._ Eve found herself unable to tear her eyes away from his face... almost wanting to memorize every curvature and detail.

"Well... I'm not exactly sure... I have developed a theory, but it's a little hard to believe."

"Garry." She said, lifting a hand to turn his head to make him look her in the eyes. "I'm holding your warm, very-much alive hand right now, talking to your warm, very-much alive face. I'm pretty sure I can believe anything right about now."

He chuckled. "Okay, okay. I guess I should start from the beginning."

* * *

_"Are you kidding me? You're afraid of a _painting?!_"_

_"Mister DeCrood, I do not fear the Lady in Blue. I just know that she'll pop out of that canvas and pursue us relentlessly until she gets our roses and plucks our lives away."_

_Garry was getting so sick of this man not believing him, taking him for a coward. He was only trying to protect him, and instead, he ridicules him!_

_"Alright. Let me explain this again, since you're so _loony_ that you couldn't even understand it the first time." DeCrood grumbled at him condescendingly. "Paintings." He pointed to the Lady in Blue, whose head had _mysteriously_ turned to look at DeCrood. "Can't come to life. They never _were_ alive because they're made out of paint! Colorful, sticky liquid, you heard of it? It can't attack you!"_

_To prove his point, DeCrood stepped backwards into the vicinity of the Lady in Blue, much to Garry's chagrin. His eyes went wide and he moved forward to pull DeCrood back by the lapel of his suit, feeling as though time had slowed as he heard the telltale shatter of glass._

_"What the bloody-"_

_The Lady lunged forward, landing on DeCrood's chest. The man let out a disbelieving cry as her greedy fingers reached out, seeking the rose he held over his head to keep it as far away from the creature as possible. Garry moved to pull the Lady off of him and did so successfully, the Lady snarling and trying to turn so as to claw at Garry's legs._

_"NOO! HELP ME!"_

_Garry's head snapped up, watching in stricken horror as those abominable knit dolls surrounded DeCrood, creating a sickening sea of blue. The man valiantly tried to stand up and kick the things away, but they rushed forward, piling onto his body and pinning him to the floor. Garry released his grip on the Lady's frame and circled around to help DeCrood fight off the dolls. He made it to the edge of the masses, the blood-curdling screams of DeCrood's mixing with the sound of flesh and cloth being ripped apart indiscriminately by thousands of tiny, white teeth. Until something grabbed his ankle and pulled him onto the ground, making him eye-level with the murderous dolls who paid him no attention, their focus strictly on their helpless meal. Panic rising in his chest, he looked back to see the Lady restraining him and tried to shake her off, to no avail. Instead, she hauled herself forward, clasping a second hand around his ankle for a tighter grip. Desperately, Garry turned and began yanking the gnarling critters off of DeCrood, paying no mind to the Lady. He had to get them off... had to help DeCrood... before..._

_A dry, bony foot stared him in the face._

_No... He was too late._

_"No, no, no... NOO!"_

_With a final burst of adrenaline, Garry kicked the Lady square in the chest, forcing her to release her hold on him and back away into the shadows. He scrambled to his feet, his arms sweeping heedlessly to brush the rest of the dolls off of DeCrood, or what was left of him. Like piranhas, they left only a skeleton and a black rose..._

_"Hello there, Garry!"_

_A doll in a pink dress had hopped onto his shoulder, completely oblivious to the shuddering of his body as the realization of the death of _another_ companion hit him. Not having the strength or will to go on, Garry sunk to the floor, next to the bloodless carcass. He raised a hand to the doll and brushed it off, letting it skitter to the ground. A stubborn one, it climbed back onto his other shoulder._

_"Why are you ignoring me?"_

_This felt so familiar... Had he heard these words before?_

_"Do you hate me?"_

_At this, Garry's head spun around, knocking the doll back onto the ground in the process. Anger replaced the numb despair inside of him._

_"Do I _hate_ you?"_

_The doll looked taken aback. It gaped at him with wide eyes, confused._

_"You _kill_ people, not even because you're hungry, but because you get some sick satisfaction out of it, I bet. You just killed a man that could have had a family to go home to, children to watch as they grow up. You haunt me for days and days, driving me out of my mind! And you ask," He drew himself to his full height, a scowl etched across his face as he glared down at the doll who seemed to be trying to make itself appear smaller, "if I _hate_ you?!"_

_As if a cheerful thought had struck the naive thing, the doll's face lit up as it grinned at Garry,_

_"Hey, play with me! I know lots of fun things we can do-"_

_"I DON'T WANT TO PLAY WITH YOU!" He thundered, not even the slightest bit remorseful at the sight of it shrinking back, cringing at his booming voice._

_"B-But... I've got lots of friends, too..." It squeaked and looked to its friends who were sitting off to the side, completely stationary, "I'll introduce you!"_

_"NO! I WON'T PLAY WITH YOU NOW, AND I WON'T PLAY WITH YOU EVER! GET IT THROUGH YOUR THICK SKULL!"_

_In the back of his mind, Garry knew he was being childish. A mature adult would have walked out by now. He wouldn't let this doll triumph over him, wouldn't let it get him riled up. He began pivoting on his heel to head for the door, but what the doll said next made him pause._

_"Be here forever..."_

_He swung about to face the doll once more, the annoyance at this doll's persistence finally tipping him over the edge. Savagely, he stomped over to the critter and kicked it, watching it hit the wall with a gratifying _splat_. Its head, the only part that remained whole, stared at him, its last expression of shock forever carved into its features. Whispers struck up all about the room._

_"Killer..."_

_"Hypocrite..."_

_"Ungrateful..."_

_Tuning out the dolls, Garry headed for the door, his hand closing around the knob._

_Something jumped onto his back._

_"The hell-"_

_He looked over his shoulder, catching sight of blue. More blue joined it, additional weight pulling him backwards, away from the door._

_All of a sudden, a substantial load was on his back, forcing him to hit the ground with a _whump_, the dolls clearing out of the way between him and the floor. Alarm rose in him once more, the thought of what would happen next urging him to sit back up. The attempt was futile, for the dolls simply piled onto his chest as they had with DeCrood, the mob rendering him unable to move. He could hear the shredding of the tattered sleeves of his coat and tried to roll over, away from the blood-seeking monsters. There was no way that he could get this far and not get out... He vowed that he would find a way... He vowed to _her_..._

_But had he even? Had he ever promised her that he would get out of here? Or was that just another one of his... concoctions? He couldn't remember... Things were getting blurrier as the blood poured out of his skin and was immediately gulped down by eager throats..._

_At least now, he would be free._

* * *

_Garry woke in a white room, surveying his surroundings. Where was he? The last thing he could remember was being eaten alive by those god-awful dolls... Wait, eaten alive?!_

_He looked down at his hands, flipping them over and finding that they were still intact. How was this possible? Being eaten alive was most _definitely_ a memory. He knew he should be dead..._

_No... No, he should be _free_. In death, he would be free. Free of this miserable ordeal, free of fearing for his life. God, it seemed as though this gallery wouldn't even let him have _that_. Wouldn't even kill him to give him peace!_

_"WHAT HAVE I EVER DONE TO DESERVE THIS?!" He shouted to the empty room, tears welling up. "TELL ME!"_

_He'd lived his life outside of the gallery fairly well. He'd never broken the law or done anything that would lay heavily on his conscience. He respected people and tried his best to keep from hurting anyone's feelings. He was just an ordinary guy, living out his ordinary life. So what had he ever done to be forced to stay in this horrid prison?_

_He broke down, arms curling around his knees as the sobs wracked his body, tears making warm, wet spots on his thin shirt. He could feel the drops on his skin. An overbearing feeling that he could barely breathe engulfed him, and he coughed and spluttered as he gasped for air, some tears finding their way into his mouth and producing a brackish taste in the back of his throat._

_"What... did I ever... do... to deserve... this?"_

* * *

_Once he'd gotten ahold of himself enough to think clearly, Garry checked his pockets to make sure he was still in possession of his rose (which he was), then made his way to the purple, wooden door in the middle of the room. It was an obvious discrepancy among the white walls and floor (which were seemingly made of canvas normally used for painting), sticking out like a sore thumb._

_"So what are you?" He muttered, hand frozen on the knob. He sincerely hoped there was nothing horrible behind this door..._

_Taking a deep breath, he took the plunge and walked through the door. Light blinded him for a second, and then his vision adjusted, revealing... a library._

_His eyes darted about the room, searching for any incoming threats. It seemed that the place was free of paintings, unless he counted the small one emitting light in the corner over there. He looked back, wondering if he should inspect that white room more-_

_He was met with a blank, solid _wall_._

_"How..." Garry felt against the smooth surface, knowing there was no way this could be possible. Doors couldn't just _disappear_._

_He shook his head, silently reprimanding himself. He should've expected something like this from Guertena's goddamned gallery._

_Okay... so, quick recap. DeCrood was... gone. Unless he'd been brought back like he had... but some small part of him was shaking its head, dismissing the thought. He had his rose and looked to be in perfectly good condition, even relocated to some sort of sanctuary. So how had he done it? How had he resurrected himself? Or had someone else saved him? And _why?

_With a huff, Garry silenced the multitude of questions swirling about in his head. The answers obviously wouldn't be coming to him by simply standing there, so he decided to poke through the resources he had here: the books. But first, to the miniature painting for closer scrutiny._

_Actually, this wasn't a painting at all. It was a frosted glass window with no view, small that it was. The light from it did feel warm, almost like sunlight... But it still wasn't real. Just replicated. Oh, how he longed to feel the heat of the sun's rays on his skin._

_He turned his back on the fake window and padded over to the nearest bookcase, scanning its contents and flipping through random selections. It seemed that everything here was just informational reads on the various styles of art or an inventory of the different pieces of Guertena. As he flipped through the M section of one of the Guertena artwork lists, he felt stifled, as though the air in the room had become thicker. He glanced up, seeing no changes in the room, but still feeling that strange heaviness in the atmosphere._

Weird.

_He shut the book and pushed it back into its place on the shelf, then tugged out another. If he was going to try to read all of these books to find something useful, it was going to be a long, long night._

* * *

_Garry woke, looking around the room in a disoriented state before he remembered the library. A pressure on his lap alerted him to the fact that he'd most likely fallen asleep in the middle of reading a book._

_He blinked, taking in the numerous titles strewn about the floor. He hadn't been able to find anything helpful about his revival in the published books, but rather, in a few hidden sketchbooks that he could barely understand, thanks to the writer whose handwriting was like a child's. Whoever they were (they didn't write a name anywhere), they had scribbled these shabby drawings with captions underneath so that the reader could comprehend its story. But the worst part was that it was all in _crayon_. He was starting to suspect that the author actually _was_ a child._

_From what he'd gathered, the gallery always needed a ruler of some type. Without one, it would crumble apart to destruction. But it had to be someone special. Someone... loved._

_But him? Who would love him? His father didn't - couldn't - anymore. And his mother no longer knew him. He had no siblings, and all of his so-called friends only liked his face. Not his personality. Not _him_._

_In any case, the gallery had picked him. And as its sovereign, the gallery would always bring him back to the world of the living when he was killed. How exactly, the sketchbooks did not disclose._

_So that was that. He clearly wasn't going to be told who loved him so damned much that he'd been chosen to be imprisoned here, so the best thing for him to do would be to move on and find a way out of here. He stood, brushing off his coat, and headed for the door._


	11. Chapter 11

Eve stared at Garry, shocked. He dealt with this everyday for ten years? Dear god...

"Have any of your companions... made it out?" She breathed out.

He shook his head, staring blankly ahead. She knew he was not to blame for DeCrood's death, or for the deaths of the others, but knowing Garry... How guilty must he have felt? How guilty must he feel _now?_

She squeezed his hand reassuringly, letting the sound of their slow breaths fill the air. What could she say?

"Some were killed. Others... the gallery got to them. They..." He breathed in shakily, "They ended their own lives. They were _convinced_ that this whole place was a dream, nothing more. And they were _convinced_ that through death, they could wake up. I tried to stop them, tell them I'd been here long enough to know it was reality and that suicide was _not_ the way out. But they wouldn't listen."

He kept staring ahead, as if watching each memory happen before him again.

"At one point, I even tried it myself. Hung myself from a rope.

But I woke up in that white room. I could still feel the pressure around my throat, but I could breathe just fine. And then when I stepped through the violet door, the compression disappeared, along with the door itself. As if nothing ever happened.

It happens every time - every _fucking_ time. Every time I die, I wake up in that white room. Last time, too. But instead of finding a violet door, I found an orange door. And when I walked through, I was here.

Why is that? What happened to make my resurrection different this time? What changed things?"

Garry looked at her, almost expectantly. Eve opened her mouth to answer him but found that no words would come out. What would she have said, anyway? She didn't know what happened. She didn't have a clue...

At her silence, Garry looked away, eyes downcast.

"I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm telling you all this. I'm such a burden."

She shifted to sit in front of him, meeting his eyes stubbornly.

"No, you're not. No matter what, you are _not_ a burden."

"Yes, I am." He interrupted, tears shimmering in his eyes once more. "I hold people back because I'm such a sissy. I'm holding _you_ back at this very moment because I'm keeping you from moving on, from getting out of this gallery. And you've done so much for me, listening to me whine and staying with me while I cry like a pathetic, little kid. Me... I've done nothing.

Honestly, you'd be better off alone. In the long run, all I'll be doing is holding you back."

"No."

Garry sniffled hopelessly and looked away again, but Eve wasn't having it. Releasing his hand, she cupped his face with both hands and forced him to look at her. The dull look in his eyes was agonizing.

"You're not holding me back, and you never will. You saved me back there in the apple room... If it wasn't for you, I'd be dead. That's a pretty big deal. Not to mention you basically _sacrificed_ yourself to get me the key out of the room with the cords and the logs.

And you protected all of the other people that came here, even if they treated you badly like DeCrood. That's courage, right there."

A single tear trickled down his face then and Eve wiped it away with her thumb. Garry laughed darkly.

"Oh, yes. I _protected_ them. If I protected them so well, where are they?" He looked around himself to make his point, breaking free from her grasp.

"Their deaths are not your fault. They are no one's fault. It's this gallery."

He had lapsed into silence, so she pushed on.

"You protected them as best as you could. But it happened and there's nothing you can do about it anymore. Guilt and grief will not bring them back.

It's in the past."

"...I suppose you're right." He sighed. "I still feel terrible, though."

"When we get out of here, we'll build a memorial dedicated to all those lost in the gallery. Even if everyone thinks we're crazy for it."

For the first time in quite a while, a genuine, hopeful smile crossed Garry's face. They were going to be okay.

* * *

Eve and Garry passed by the empty vase, heading straight for the square gap in the floor that had piqued their interest. Rectangular blocks of different lengths were arranged within, another blue doll perched on one of the smaller logs. Remembering Garry's horrific experience with the critters, Eve glanced upwards at him, gauging his reaction. She watched his Adam's Apple bob up and down as he gulped, clearly uneasy around it. In an attempt to take his mind off the thing, Eve spoke up.

"So what did you do in the real world, Garry? Before you ended up here?"

"Uh... I was a temp." He reddened slightly, a sight Eve found herself considering as cute. The thought came to a quick, screeching halt, however. "I didn't really have a steady job. You could say my dream job was a bit... unconventional."

"And what would that be?"

His complexion deepened to that of a cherry.

"I wanted to be a fashion designer."

"Ah. But how is that 'unconventional?'" She returned her attention to the puzzle ahead of them and pondered on a way to solve it. Out of habit, she chewed on her bottom lip.

"Eh?"

Eve released the lip from between her teeth, turned towards him - vaguely noting the way his eyes darted from her mouth to her eyes - and repeated herself. "How is that unconventional?"

"Well, uh... Most men strive to be lawyers or doctors or athletes, even... Things like that. Or at least, the guys that I shared classes with drove towards those careers."

"Mm... But if certain genders were limited to certain occupations, we'd have a very boring world, now wouldn't we?" Eve mused, twirling a digit in a random, light chocolate-colored lock of hair.

"...Huh?" Garry repeated and blinked. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," She liberated the strand, distractedly observing it bounce back into place, "that the culture we have today would be very different and very _dull_ if it was classified by sex. Take Mary Shelley, for example. In the time _Frankenstein_ was published, women writers were only starting to stand out amongst their male counterparts. But had Shelley never been permitted to write, the task reserved only for males, _Frankenstein_ would not exist, and the woman practically birthed science fiction."

Eve fell still as she realized she'd been rambling. Not only that, her intellectual nerd had slipped out, a side of her that never surfaced.

"And a world without _Star Wars_ or _Doctor Who_ is a world I would not want to live in." She finished, resisting the urge to clap a hand over her mouth to shut herself up.

Her purple-headed companion blinked again. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

_Oh god, is it me? Am I the reason he's been blinking with that baffled look in his eyes so often? It's because I'm so strange... He probably thinks so, too... Wait, no, blinking is a normal bodily function. What am I going on about?_

And then he started giggling.

The blinking-virus must've been contagious because Eve's lashes fluttered, followed by a bewildered stare.

_What the hell?_

Garry doubled over and clutched his stomach as the melodious giggle grew into a spasmodic, blown-out bout of laughter, the kind that faded into short outbursts as one ran out of breath, only to be replaced with a new wave of guffaws. Despite her perplexity at his sudden fit of cackling, the ends of her mouth quirked upwards into a grin until she was helplessly giggling alongside him. She couldn't help it if Garry's laughter was infectious.

"Ahahahahahaha... ha... Why... heehee... are you laugh..." She tried to communicate through the chortling and squinted eyes, "laughing?"

"Hahaha..." He inhaled deeply, straightening from his curled-up position to smile warmly at Eve, "Ahhh... It's just... you."

"Heehee... Huh?" Eve wiped a tear from her eye and bit her lower lip to hold back any stray chuckles that threatened to slip out.

"I've tried to tell people that for _years._ My whole life, really. And here you come along, the first person to arrive in this world for quite the stretch, and you're just..."

It was when she felt his warm breath flow across her cheeks that she suddenly became very aware of their close proximity. He leaned forward and unwittingly, her gaze flitted to his lips. They truly were nice lips...

"...Just..." His voice had dropped an octave. The air around them felt more solemn and at this realization, she glanced upwards to meet his eyes again. At the tender gaze he was giving her, her breath hitched.

"Just what?" She said softly, sensing a certain tension curl in her chest. It was a feeling that she hadn't felt for a long time...


	12. Chapter 12

"Amazing." Garry stepped back with a small, less brilliant smile, absently rubbing the back of his neck. "You're amazing."

The tension in Eve's chest unfurled, somehow seeping out into the atmosphere. An awkward silence descended.

_I'm amazing._

"Say, Eve... Have you heard of macarons? They're these pastries shaped like hamburgers."

_I'm_ amazing.

"And just the other day, I had one at a café, and it was sooo tasty!" He chuckled.

_That's it?_ Amazing?

"...No, wait."

Garry stopped grinning, sobering up for a second.

"We _will_ be going there!" The grin returned full-force. "And we _will_ get out! I promise!"

The man flounced off, apparently deciding the vase off to the right needed inspection.

_I suppose I should be glad he thinks positively of me. But somehow, I feel... disappointed._

_Why is that?_

Eve shook her head and let out an exasperated huff. Precious time was being wasted by her standing there.

Hopping into the small pit with a little flourish of the skirt, Eve cast a glance at the doll sitting on a log, then followed its unnerving gaze towards... a pocket in the wall. Perhaps it wanted to be over there?

The brunette strolled over and wrapped a hand around the critter's torso (hoping it didn't attack her the moment she laid a finger on it), only to be met with resistance when she pulled back. Puzzled, she added her other hand into the equation and tugged with all her might...

Eve released the doll from her grip and stepped back, mind racing to come across an alternative solution. She'd probably have to-

"Eve?"

The woman in question looked up and met the curious gray eyes of her comrade. In answer to the unasked question, "I figured we need to get this doll to the gap in the wall over there." She pointed towards the pocket she'd found. "But I can't-"

"Why don't you just pick it up?"

"You can't jus-"

"Here, I'll get it."

"No, Garry-"

He dropped down into the pit with her and grabbed the doll's torso as she had a moment ago and found that he could not remove it. Eve, in a flustered state, uselessly flailed her hands before crossing her arms and watching the man struggle with a raised brow.

"Urgh..." He pulled with both hands, positioning his feet against the block in order to get better leverage and gritting his teeth resolutely. Eventually, he let up on the small entity with a huff and ran a hand through his hair, turning to Eve and shrinking back at her irked visage.

"You done?" She asked with a hint of sarcasm.

"Yeah."

Even though she was slightly irritated by his (attempt at a) show of authority, an amused smile made its way across her features. "Well, like I was saying, you can't just pick it up. It must be attached to the log it's on, so I think we might have to push the log itself into the exit by rearranging the others and making a clear path. What do you think?"

Garry worried his bottom lip, reflecting on the situation.

"One second." He held up a finger.

Climbing out of the hollow, he stood over the puzzle to get a bird's-eye view of the puzzle, then most likely came to the same conclusion as he nodded in agreement.

"Should we switch positions so you can work out the puzzle and I'll push the logs?" He offered.

"No, you're already there, so just tell me what to do."

He shrugged. "Okay."

Gray eyes flickered over wooden logs and blue doll as red eyes gazed patiently at the owner of the gray eyes. After a moment's hesitation, Garry pointed towards the log nearest the exit.

"Push that one down?"

Eve acquiesced, tugging the surprisingly light block into the position Garry wanted, then stood by and waited for his next order. She could almost see the gears in his head turning as he contemplated the next move.

_He looks so adorable, all concentrated and stuff._

She smirked.

_Like a puppy trying really hard to figure out how it's supposed to execute a new trick._

* * *

After numerous other moves in which Garry messed up the puzzle ("I thought it was solved! I really did! If that _one log_ wasn't in the way, we'd be done here."), the two decided that Eve needed to be up top to unravel the puzzle and that Garry needed to be the one to do the grunt work.

"Alright, now that we've got this back into its original position," Eve mock-glared at Garry, who laughed nervously, "put that block all the way up."

He moved the selected object accordingly, wordlessly obeying her each and every order until the doll was shoved into the opening in the wall. At once, the still-until-now doll rose to its feet, causing Garry to jump back.

"Eve!" He squeaked, eyes wide with terror.

As the doll turned to face Garry, Eve dropped down into the pit, interlocking her fingers with Garry's without a thought. Her gaze fixated on the plush.

"Thanks, Garry!" A huge, blood-chilling grin split its face. Eve repressed a shudder at the sight of its jagged teeth, but it seemed that Garry was not as strong because she could feel him trembling beside her. Unconsciously, she stroked his hand with her thumb.

The dark blue animal stepped backwards, moving towards the newly-opened entrance of a small tunnel. Eve almost let out a sigh in relief, thinking that it was about to leave, but her breath caught when the jet black pupils trapped her in their unblinking stare, piercing her soul. Her mouth ran dry and it felt as if every hair on her body was standing on end, but damn it all, she would not let this doll spark fear in her. She was not afraid of a tiny, stupid _doll._

Standing straighter and swallowing back her unease, Eve looked down at the threat, its red eyes boring into her own. After what felt like an eternity, the beaming doll raised a paw and waved excitedly at Eve.

"Hi again!"

"...Huh?" She stared blankly. "What do you mean, 'again?' We've never... met..."

In the corner of her eye, Eve could see Garry's head tilt downwards to look at her. Now all eyes were anchored on her and waiting for her reaction...

"Yes, we have, silly!" Giggled the doll.

Eve was thoroughly confused. When had she ever met this... creature?

Unless it was the same one she'd found in the beginning that held a key... No, that one donned a pink dress. This one wore a deep green dress.

"I gave you a key!" At Eve's ever-growing silence, the doll's bright smile began dissolving, morphing into a displeased frown. It was even more macabre than the grin, chilling the brunette to the core. "Don't you remember?"

She shook her head. "I'm afraid I don't."

The frown deepened. Oh god, had she chosen the wrong answer? Her grip tightened on Garry's hand as she anticipated an attack...

"I've gotta go now. Bye-bye."

Without another word (and to Eve's relief), the dark blue doll vanished into the tunnel.


End file.
